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Why I Hate Tuesday pt 2I picked up the phone by the register and hit the PA button.Why I Hate Tuesday pt 2 by *neomerlin
“Bilbo McDonald to Information. Bilbo McDonald to Information.” My voice reverberated across the whole store, shattering the loathsome silence and setting my plan in motion. I made sure my tone made it clear that he needed to act at once. No sooner than I'd put the phone down, the walkie-talkie crackled.
“What's going on, Reese?”
I grabbed the walkie-talkie. “Lock the doors, Harrison. Over.” I walked as I talked, at last giving the device's name some meaning. “We're going to go find our missing customers.” I saw Harrison move immediately to follow my instructions. As he hung the 'Back Soon' sign on the door, Bilbo arrived at the information counter in a sprint, panting and sweating.
“What is it? What happened?” He asked.
“I'm putting an end to this weirdness before it goes on another week.”
“How do you plan to do that?” Harrison rejoined us by
Why I Hate Tuesday pt 1The cliché is “I hate Mondays”. I've met a lot of people who say they hate Monday. Personally, I don't mind Monday. Most of the interesting things that happen on the weekend happen during the day and I'm purely nocturnal. That's not by choice, that's just a side affect of my job. But because I sleep all day, my days off aren't very interesting. There's no night life in my town worth being a part of and because my room mates aren't nocturnal, anything I do I have to do quietly. For me, weekends are generally just one long search for new and interesting ways to waste time. When Monday comes around and I clock in for that first shift of the week, it's almost a relief. I don't hate my job and it's almost the only place I get to interact with people. So I don't hate Monday.Why I Hate Tuesday pt 1 by *neomerlin
I hate Tuesday.
It's not a personal thing against Tuesday. I'm sure there are plenty of Tuesdays out there that don't hurt anyone. But in my life, Tuesday is when the weird stuff happens. Not weird stu
Guy SmithMy name is Guy Smith and I am the last human left. I don't know when it happened, how or why. I don't know why nobody stopped it or if they could or if they even knew it was happening. All I know is one day I stepped outside and they were all gone. Left in their place were the Outsiders.Guy Smith by *neomerlin
I don't know where the Outsiders came from or what they want. I don't know why they're here. I'm not even sure they see me. Most of them look just like humans used to. They have the same hair, the same skin, the same voices and the same eyes. It's like they're wearing human disguises or maybe they just slipped in slowly, one at a time and took people's bodies. Some are better at being human than others. Most of the time I can tell they're an Outside as soon as I see them. They have this unnatural way of moving, like they don't know how to use their legs. They walk fast and then they slow down and then suddenly they stop and there are huge pile ups of Outsiders who can't get moving again and I have to p
HyperspaceThere was a moment of complete silence. Nobody moved. Nobody even breathed. Then, through the monitor, we saw the world quiver as if reality was just the reflection in a pool and some unseen hand had brushed across it. Just as quick as he was gone, Parker appeared, screaming. At first I could no believe that this greying, withered ghost of a man could be Parker. His clothes had rotted into rags, he was drenched in sweat and his eyes bulged out of their sockets.Hyperspace by *neomerlin
“Oh God!” He cried. His voice was strained and his desperate screams were plainly agonising. “Oh God! Oh God! No. No God. There is nothing!” And as if the hopeless certainty of his plea was too much to bear, he collapsed.
I did not hear about Parker again for the rest of the week. He was taken directly to the infirmary and then moved to a hospital less than an hour later. I returned to my work, now determined to solve the problems that had apparently stolen Parker and cast him to the far off reaches of sp